


Blood Bond

by uglyinternet



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: 1984
Genre: Blood Kink, Established Relationship, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Knife Kink, Knife Play, Murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:20:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22446283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uglyinternet/pseuds/uglyinternet
Summary: And she can’t help the tears that continue to spill because what is wrong with her? Was it truly possible to love someone so much that you don’t turn them in for killing? For doing an ungodly act? Could you love someone so much that you’re not scared even as they press a blade to your throat, hands coated in someone else’s blood, a crazed look in their eyes.
Relationships: Xavier Plympton/Reader
Kudos: 22





	Blood Bond

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this on my writing/cf tumblr monthsss ago, but i’m finally posting it on here! 
> 
> this was also wrote before the season had even aired so it’s definitely an au verse and does not follow the sequence of the season at all. 
> 
> i hope y’all enjoy despite the lack of (heavy) smut!!

She was freezing. The cool wind whipped against her bare legs, goosebumps spreading across her skin. She wrapped her arms around her chest, her hands rubbing the side’s of her sweatshirt in hopes to warm at least half of her freezing body as she made her way back to her cabin. 

It seemed as though summer was coming to a close, so were the hot nights. No longer did she have to worry about sweating during the night or tossing her blankets to the ground, all windows within her cabin were open to hopefully let some type of breeze come in and cool her sweat slicked skin. 

Now she could sleep better. No heat strokes. No sweating. Just the warmth of her blankets, and sometimes the warmth from the chest pressed against her back. That is only when Xavier, her boyfriend, decided to sneak into her cabin in the middle of the night. She never really knew if or when he was going to. Not until she felt the small mattress sink from behind her, and a pair of warm arms wrap around her, pulling her body close to his chest. A kiss pressed to the back of her neck before she drifted back off to sleep. 

Tonight had not been one of those nights though. She woke in the middle of the night to not find Xavier there, or any sign of him that he'd been there. And, she was sure if this had been any other night, any other time, or place, she would not have cared or worried about it. But with the disappearances of a few campers and counselors, rumors of a crazed killer on the loose, and all the fatal accidents that have happened around them, each accident, rumor, disappearance, seemed to get closer and closer to her. The looming feeling of another person she knew who could be in trouble, danger, hurt next, or worse, herself, hung over her head. It made any noise she heard, whether it be day or night outside, within her cabin, by the water, or in the woods, jump and clench her fists into balls until the moon shaped crescents her nails left in her palm scabbed over. 

If she was honest she couldn’t wait to go home. Couldn’t wait for summer to be over, so her and Xavier could be get away from whatever hell-summer this was. She wanted to leave before. She had packed all of her stuff after the second fatal incident happened. She was ready to run out of cabin and never look back. But Xavier talked her out of it. Reassured everything would be fine. They were just accidents, coincidences. Nothing to worry her pretty little face about. 

And no matter how much she believed in him, how his smile reassured her, in the back of her mind her fear of what might happen next outweighed it in a painstaking way. 

So Xavier not showing up at her cabin tonight was worrisome. 

Which is why a flashlight was currently in her hand, pointed to the mossy ground as she walked in the dark of the night, the fog from the lake making her flashlight almost all but useless with the way the white smog clashed with the yellow light. Her shivers were not only due to the cold. Fear set deep within her stomach. Deep enough to make her teeth clatter and hands shake as she made her way towards Xavier’s cabin. 

The boys’ cabin’s placed on the other side of the campsite. Something she never found more of an issue until right now. Until there was a killer somewhere out there. 

She knew it was stupid. To go out this late at night in these conditions any other time, but especially now. But the fear of something happening to Xavier, especially after he had spoke to her before curfew telling her he would sneak in after everyone fell asleep like usual. He wouldn’t tell her that and just not show up. Sure, he had a habit of being fashionably late sometimes. From standing in front of the mirror for too long, his hair having to be the perfect height, spike, puff. It wasn’t uncommon for him to be late for things or to get too caught up in himself.

But this was different. It felt different. She had an eerie feeling ever since the disappearance of her bunk mate. She had walked into the woods and never came back out. Some campers say they heard screams, saw blood splattered against the oak trees. The deep crimson color soaking into the life of the tree, making it look almost sickly. Infected. 

There was no sign of her from there on. The campers were reassured that the blood had to be from some wild animal. Maybe people were hunting, for animals. Not people. They were safe. She probably got lost or ditched and went home. There was a reasonable explanation for all of this. 

And as much as she wanted to hold on to those words, to cling to them like they were a life raft, the pit in her stomach that never ceased to ache nowadays, it seemed, would not let her. 

She tried not to let that same feeling, those thoughts, the logical part of her brain, to consume her into turning back. To running back to her cabin and pulling the blankets over her head and waiting until the morning to hear whatever excuse Xavier had for not showing up. She’s sure it would be some excuse, something that would make her roll her eyes and slap his chest for scaring her like that, for worrying her, for doing whatever he was doing that was way more important. 

But she needed to find out now. Needed to see, to know, that he was okay. That it was just some silly excuse, that he forgot or got caught up in looking in the mirror. Something dumb. Something silly. Not that he was in trouble. That he had disappeared or fallen victim like so many others. 

So her legs moved faster. The crunch of leaves and sticks under her sneakers seeming to grow louder than anything else around her. The crack and break pounded in her ear drums, as if every other worldly noise had been shut off. The wind was silent but still whipping against her legs. The fog rolled against the ground in silence. Animals and insects alike were silent, except for her shuffled movements. 

Until she hears it. It making her stop in her tracks. Her flashlight flashing in all directions as her hands shake even more, her eyes wide, her body hyper aware. Trying to find the direction, the source, the culprit of whatever made the noise. The noise of something hard falling to the ground. A thud. The thud of something making contact with the moss. Leaves crunching against its weight. 

There is no sign of what it could be. Where it could of came from. There’s nothing. Nothing but the sound of her breath heavy and her heart pounding in her chest. Maybe she imagined it. Maybe one of the campers dropped something in their cabin. Maybe they are playing a trick on her. Wildlife could also be the culprit. There were many viable options, answers, reasonings. But all her mind could think was to run. Run as fast as she could, away from whatever it could be.

Her legs do not move, though. As if glued to the ground. As if they are afraid to make any noise, to let the outside world, to let whatever know she is there. Out in the open ready to be plucked up and taken. 

And when the sound of shuffling comes from her left, her entire body refused to move, her head and eyes seeming to be the only parts of her willing to work out of fear. She knows, the sound is coming from behind one of the large oak trees lined along the camps borders. A separation before the forest. A tree most of the young campers loved to climb. To swing from. 

That’s probably all it was. Some kids out past curfew. Playing tricks and messing around. And maybe it was that thought alone that gave her the bravery to walk towards the noise. That reasonable voice in the back of her head telling her to just ignore it, even if it was some kids messing around. It wasn’t her business. This is not what she came out here for. To be a narc, or possibly be the next disappeared victim they plastered all over town on the whitest sheets of paper with a hotline number printed in bold letters across the bottom. 

But her itch to know what was going on got the better of her. Or was it the worse? She prayed for the latter. That whatever was behind the aged old bark of the tree was not going to cause her any harm. That her curious mind would simply laugh at her instead of scream for potentially getting herself hurt, or worse. 

Walking on the tips of her toes, she tried her best to avoid any and all sources of noise that could scare away whatever was seeking cover behind the tree. The flashlight guided her way through the fog, her knees shaking, her palms clammy from the sweat that gathered the closer she got to the tree. 

Stopping only inches away from it, just one more step and she would be behind the tree, she would come face to face with god knows what. Another camper? An animal? Mr. Jingles? She didn’t know. Did she really even want to know, she thought as she looked around her, back at the cabins, over to where Xavier’s cabin seemed to be shining in the moonlight as if a sign flashed over it indicating her personal safety. 

But she was here. She had walked all this way with a pep in her step and her breath held for far too long that it make her woozy. If she turned back now she may never know it was only nothing and her mind would wonder even after she left this hell camp. 

So she takes in a big breath, clenches her eyes, lets out the breath slowly, and whispers to herself, "It’s probably nothing, just make sure," before opening her eyes, and taking a step, and then another. One more and she will be behind the tree; she will finally be able to put her mind at ease. But then something catches on her foot and she loses her balance and falls knees and palms first to the ground. 

“Ahh,” she groans as she feels several rocks scrape against her knee, her palms colliding with already broken sticks that poke and break her skin. The sudden warmth in her palm an indication that she’s bleeding without even having to look. 

She turns over with a slight whimper, now seated on her bottom, pulling her hands from the ground to pick out the small clumps of dirt and dried leaves that stick to the bleeding cuts on her palms. She can’t see, it’s too dark, but she knows when she runs her finger tips over her knees, trying to remove the dirt and grime, that they are scraped to hell, much as she expected them to be. The sting from brushing over the small marks makes her hiss in pain.

“Shit,” she groans as she reaches out into the darkness, feeling around the cold wet ground. Extremely wet. She doesn’t remember it raining. It hadn’t rained in weeks since they had been at camp. It was too warm to be dew from the grass, too sticky, too thick. She needed to find her flashlight. 

Twisting her body around she tries to seek out its light, but all she see’s is darkness. The few lights that are spread around the camp are dull and useless, not reaching her or her surroundings. 

She was in complete darkness, cut up, and in pain. If this was not karma’s way of telling her that she should have minded her own business, she doesn’t know what is. 

Sighing, bracing herself, she balls her hands up into fists, pressing them into the ground as she tries to stand. Her legs wobbly and the sting from her wounds making her whine as she comes to her feet. She walks towards the tree, her hand reaching out to touch the rough bark of its trunk to help her collect her bearings as leans on it. 

But her foot hits something, again. She assumes it was what made her trip. She tries to kick at it, tries to move it so she can get closer to the tree, so she can lean her back against it, catch her breath before she hobbles over to her Xavier’s cabin to most likely be scolded for being so ignorant as to leave her cabin at all, instead of just waiting for him.

She tries to kick at the unknown object again. It moves this time but rolls right back to its place. It didn’t have the rough exterior of a rock. It definitely was not a part of the tree; she wasn’t strong enough to move a root. She looks down, her eyes straining and squinting in hopes to see what is in her way, what made her fall. But all she see’s is black. So she bends down, finding her sneaker before she moves over to the unknown thing at the tip of her Nike’s. Her fingers gripping onto it, trying to push it away, only for her to jump up from realizing what is was. 

A shoe. 

Not just a lonesome, lost shoe. But one that was attached to something. Someone. 

She backs away from the tree slightly. Her breath now coming out in heavy puffs, her heart beating fast once again. 

“Hello?” She whispers, stutters out. “Are,” she breathes, swallows, “Are you okay?” She asks. Hopes. Prays. Maybe one of the campers fell out of the tree while messing around. Maybe one of them got drunk and this is where they passed out. 

Maybe they needed her help? Maybe she shouldn’t be just standing there scared out of her mind, debating on running to the nearest cabin and getting help. She needed to help them now. That’s what good counselors did, right? Helped their campers, even if they were all scraped up and scared shitless. 

So she takes slow steps back over to where she just was, her muscle memory being correct once her foot comes into contact with the shoe again. She leans down, her fingers touching the shoe and slowly moving up the persons body, the rest of her own body following with it, until she reaches bare flesh, what she assumes is their chest or neck. 

“Hey? Are you alright?” She speaks again, this time a little louder, this time letting her finger tips push into their skin to shake them a little, maybe make them come to. But nothing. She curses under her breath. She can’t make out who it is just from touching them. She does assume it’s a woman, her fingers having ran across their chest area. But that would only narrow the list down to a couple suspects. She couldn’t see them, couldn’t help them without light. She needed the light. 

She knows she has to go get somebody. She realises her efforts are failing, almost non-existent. 

But just as she begins to stand, the wind seems to take pity on her, whipping hard enough that the tree above her sways, its branches spreading, its leaves moving out of the way, for moonlight to shine through, casting a white light down upon her, and upon the lifeless body. A deep gash now shown cut along their throat, their eyes glazed over and staring up at her, completely inert. 

She wanted to scream. The burn of it trying to violently spew itself out of her larynx. A scream at the top of her lungs to dignify what she’s just seen. The dead body of one of her fellow counselors lay there, right in front of her, but no sound comes out, aside tears and vomit. Her dinner came up, mixing in with the blood and leaves on the ground. 

She cries, and sobs, instantly covering her mouth. She stands, backs away, and looks to the closest cabin before beginning to run to it. Her eyes shut, tears streaming down her face, sobs now booming out. She trips repeatedly over rocks and grass and whatever her feet catch, her nails digging into the ground as she pulls herself up each time. Her knees aching, her palms stinging from her hands being balled into tight fists. 

She has to get help. She has to get out of here. She needs to keep running and running and until she reaches the cabin. 

“Help!” She sobs, her throat burning. Her voice straining. “Please!” 

She opens her eyes to see if she’s any closer to the cabin, to see if anyone has heard her cries for help. Her vision blurry from tears, she doesn’t see anything, anyone, until she’s running into something, rather somebody.

“No!” She cries out. “Let me go! Help!” This is it. She knows she’s going to die. Mr. Jingles had taken another victim and she was going to be his next. She tries to push and slap out of their grip, his grip, but to no avail. But that doesn’t stop her from trying. She wasn’t going to die like this. Like that. Left behind a tree in the middle of the night for the animals or campers to find her in the morning. No. 

She doesn’t give up until she hears, “Hey, y/n! Hey, it’s okay, babe, it’s me!” 

The familiar voice stops her attempts at escape. Freezing her. Making her sink into their chest. Xavier. He was out here. He must of heard her cries. Must of been heading over to her cabin when he heard her. 

“They're,” she sobs, trying to desperately catch her breath, “they're dead!” 

“It’s alright. Shhh, calm down.” Xavier soothes, his hand rubbing along her back, his arms pulling her in more so her cheek is pressed to the fabric of his shirt. The material is wet. Soaked with what she assumes is sweat, maybe even water from just having showered. She doesn’t care enough to look until her breathing calms down and she’s not sobbing uncontrollably into his chest. 

She doesn’t pull her head from him until then and when her eyes gaze meets his, he’s smiling down at her. His hair is perfect as ever, he’s wearing black, something that is more than surprising to her. She didn’t think he owned any black clothes. Vibrant, out there, clothing was Xavier’s thing. He considered himself a fashion expert. Something that was only slightly hard for her to get used to when they first started seeing each other. 

So to see him now clothed head to toe in black made her step back from his arms to get a good look at him. 

“What are you wearing?” She asks, her eyes trailing over the black material. Some parts of it appearing darker than others as if it had gotten stained or wet. 

“Oh,” he laughs softly, taking a look down at his appearance as well. Shrugging, “Thought I’d add a new shade to my wardrobe.” He smiled. “Does it not suit me?” 

She doesn’t respond, just continues to take in his appearance. Why would he dress like this to come to her cabin? He was never one to not dress up no matter what time of day or where he was going. And each time he had come to her room before, he was dressed in what she likes to call his ‘intimate clothes’, and these were far from that. 

“Were you coming to my cabin?” She asks. He nods. 

“Of course.” He smiles and reaches for her arm to pull her back to him. Her now noticing he was wearing gloves, leather and black. “I always do, don’t I?” She nods and he presses a kiss to her forehead. “I expected you to be sleeping by the time I got there. Didn’t expect to see you out here.” He laughs as if she missed some untold inside joke. 

Her chest aches, pulls, as she remembers just why she was out here. Why she was running. Why her knees and palms ached. Her eyes filled with tears again. “We have to get help, Xavier. Someone.. H-He killed,-" she stutters, gulps, and shakes. 

“Hey, hey,” his hand comes up and cups her cheek. The leather cold against the burning of her skin. “Just breathe okay? It’s alright.” 

“No,” she cries. “It’s not okay; someone’s dead!” She seems to say louder than Xavier expects, then she herself expects, and he’s grabbing onto the back of her elbow and pulling her towards his cabin. 

She can’t see his expression, can hardly stand on her own as she cries, her vision taken from her once again. She doesn’t realize they are at his cabin until she hears him telling her to step, feeling him pull her close to his side as he helps her and ushers her into his quarters. Letting go of her arm to flick on the dim yellow light that illuminates the small space that houses a bed, a dresser, Xavier’s many bags, and a door that connects to a half bath. 

She wipes her eyes. Finds her way to his bed and sits down, the springs creaking under her weight. Her eyes sting and burn and she doesn’t know if it’s because of how much she’s been crying or if the dirt that she was sure was still on her hands had gotten into them. But when she pulls them back and her vision finally clears of tears, she lets out a scream, jumping from the bed, her hands held out in front of her, covered in blood. Blood mixed with dirt caked on her hand, her nail beds as crimson as the blood that leaked from the lifeless body she had stumbled over. 

“I—It’s all over me!” She cries as she looks down to her sweatshirt, her shorts, her knees, her shoes. Her fellow counselors blood was all over her. Marking her body as if she was the one had fallen victim, or caused the other to fall. She quickly peels her sweatshirt off of her, her hands shaking, her body moving faster than her brain as she strips it off of her chest, leaving her only clothed in her bra. Using the shedded fabric to try and wipe away the foreign blood from her hands. 

Her actions were abruptly stopped by Xavier who’s hand came and gripped her wrist in a tight hold, making her wince. “Did you touch her?” His tone is harsh. Low. Dark. Angry. It makes her shiver. Blood run cold. She had seen him upset. Angry, usually at something more dramatic, more childish. That she had seen. This she had not. She had never heard his tone go that bleak. And when she looked up at him she never saw him look almost so frightening. His pupils dull and dilated. His brows knitted, narrow, looking down at her hands in anger, with a hint of disgust it seemed. 

She goes to open her mouth, say something, ask him what’s wrong, ask him why he’s so angry with her, tell him the whole story. But then something connects. Something that makes her heart drop into the pit of her stomach. Something that makes her pull her hands back from his grip, the skin stinging in his wake. 

How did he know it was a her? 

She never told him anything other than someone was dead. Someone. Not her. Not him. Just someone. He could of assumed it. But why would he? It could of been a coincidence. She could of heard him wrong. 

No. She didn’t. She heard him. She see’s him. His still very angry. A look she has never once seen come across his features before. Xavier was an asshole to most. He was privileged and some would label him as a flirt, someone who always had a smirk across his face and a quirk of an eyebrow when he was feeling extra assholey. And even when he was being serious, his face was neutral, and that underlining smirk was always there. But now it wasn’t. This wasn’t Xavier. Not the one she knew. This was someone else. Someone she didn’t know. 

He wasn’t dressed like himself. He wasn’t acting like himself. She stared down at his clothes again. Stared at the dark patches on his black shirt. She had felt wetness there. It had pressed against her cheek. It wasn’t cold like it should of been if he had just showered. His hair wasn’t even wet. It had been warm. Just like the warmth she felt when she tripped and fell and her hands got coated in.....

Blood. 

She quickly pushes past him, moves across the room and over to the body mirror that Xavier himself brought from home. It sat leaned against an old metal chair. She leanes down to get a better look of herself, of her face. The dark red smeared across her cheek, staring back at her like death. A literal symbol of death. That she had touched it. Let it wrap it’s arms around her. 

She closed her eyes. Thinking. Had she touched her cheek with her hands after falling? Maybe her face had hit the ground as well? Think. Think. Think! This could not be it. This could not be the truth. Her mind was just trying to connect dots that weren’t there. That made no sense. 

But when she opened her eyes. Xavier’s back was to her. The wooden handle of something poking out of the top of his pants. No mistaking that it was a weapon of sorts. She slowly stood from her leaning position. Her eyes never leaving his back side. Something he soon noticed when he turned to look at her. A smile coming across his face that frightened her more than when grabbed the handle of the mystery weapon, pulling it from the back of his pants to reveal a knife covered in blood. Blood that was no mistaking where it came from. Blood from one of their fellow counselors, someone they were supposed to consider a friend. Someone who shouldn’t be dead right now behind some tree. 

Someone who Xavier had killed. 

She couldn’t speak. Her words, her throat, once again betraying her. Her mind aching. Her heart swollen from hurt and pain. Her tear filled eyes shifting between Xavier and the door. She didn’t know if he would hurt her too. He wouldn’t, would he? No. He loved her. He had told her ten times over. For as long as they had been together she couldn’t imagine he would cause her harm. 

But she also never imagined him being a killer. She had been with a stranger this whole time. Sleeping beside one. Letting one climb into her bed and inside of her. She didn’t know the man that stood in front of her right now. The sick smile he had on his face. Even as he slipped one of the gloves off, then the other, putting his hands up in front of him, the knife still in his right, both of his hands caked in blood. The same blood that was layers deep on hers. 

He had done it. He had done them all for all she knew. All the murders. All the accidents. All the disappearances were because of him. Xavier. The person she loved. 

“I’m not going to hurt you, y/n.” He smiled as he began to walk towards her. One step. Two step. Third step. 

She needed to run. Get out of here. Actually get help this time. Or run through the camp entrance, not stopping until her throat was raw from screaming and legs ached from how far she had gone. 

But the only move she made was to move closer to the wall. Her back pressed hard against it. Her palms splayed out against the cool wood as she watched her lover make his way towards her. A devilish smile on his face. Reassurance in his eyes. 

Maybe that’s why she couldn’t move. The trust she held for him still pinning through. Making her heart ache, her feet stay planted, and her stomach hollow. Even as he reached her, his hands coming to either side of her face, his thumbs wiping the tears that fell from her eyes, smearing more blood on her face. The gleam of the knife in her peripheral vision. 

“Shh, shh, it’s okay.” He soothed. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m not. Y/n, baby.” He presses a chaste kiss to her lips. Frowning at the lack of her returning it. The two just staring at one another for a few minutes. His eyes searching hers for something other than hurt and fear. 

He never meant for her to find out like this. He never meant for her to find out at all. No one was supposed to find out. They were all supposed to believe that it was that crazed psychopath that escaped from the looney bin. No one was ever going to find out that he was behind it all. That he slashed the throats of half the staff, scattering their bodies throughout the woods. Everyone had been too dumb enough to even look in his direction, to even look in the direction of finding the victims. They were all ignorant. Blinded behind the fact that Mr. Jingles was the culprit. 

But not her. Of course, not her. 

His girl. So smart. He should of known better than to put her in the category of the others. She had a mind like his. Smart. Problem solving. Always seeing more than others did. It was one of the reasons why he was so drawn to her. Well, that and the fact that her ass looked so good in her tights. Always catching himself staring at her while he taught class. 

He knew the moment, like most times Xavier seeked out women, if they didn’t come begging to him first, that she was something special. Something like him. Now he just had to show her that. Convince her of it. Because the way she was looking at him right now, fear and tears glossing over her eyes, she didn’t see it. 

“Why?” She cries softly. “Why, would you hurt them? All of them? I—I thought it-"

“That it was Mr. Jingles?” He laughs softly. “They all did. Everyone. Even you.” He smiles. “That’s why I knew I would be able to get away with it. With some crazy man running loose they wouldn’t suspect me, or anyone on this fucking camp for that matter. But especially not me.” 

“Because,” she swallows. “Who would suspect you?” He smiles when he can see everything connecting in her head. The reasoning for him even coming to the camp. The way he interacted with all of the campers. The rest of the staff. His money. His presence. His attitude. Just him. No one would suspect him in a million years. 

They would probably suspect her before they did him. Maybe even Brooke. 

Brooke. 

He had gotten closer to the girl since the summer had started. Acting as if, he almost, liked her. Being his less asshole self to her rather than anyone else. Something she noticed right away. Something that she had brought up to Xavier, in a playful, 'I’m-not-jealous' manner. She would of never admitted that she was worried he might like her, or try to fuck her. But he had laughed it off and told her she was being ridiculous and that he felt bad for her. For what happened to her. He had slipped his hand between her legs and promised her no other girl could catch his eyes like she could. And with his fingers being too much of a distraction between her legs, she let it go and believed him. 

But now she knows why. 

“Brooke.” She mumbles softly. “You’re going to blame it on her?” 

He laughs, presses another kiss to her closed lips. “Yes. I knew,” he continues to laugh. “I knew you would get it. My smart girl.” He smiles, running his fingers down her cheek, to her jawline, to her lips. 

“But, why?” She breathes. Her body reacting more to his fingers than the knife that’s dangerously close to her face now.

“Because, she’s the perfect victim. The perfect suspect. Well, besides Mr. Jingles.” He smirks. “I should really thank him, he made this a lot easier than I thought it would be. You would think killing someone, anyone, but especially people you almost considered friends, to be hard to kill.” He shakes his head, leans in closer to her, she almost expects him to press another kiss to her lips. But he doesn’t, his voice is lower now, his mouth inches from hers, his eyes flashing between her lips to her eyes. “But it’s not. It’s almost like the best release you’ll ever feel in your life. Besides other very, satisfying things.” He smirks and she squirms. “You put the blade to their throat,” he moves the knife dangerously close to her cheek, then to her throat, the cool metal pressed against her jugular. Her breath hitching, stopping, her body stiffer than before. “And you can always see the fear in their eyes, the look of ‘please don’t do this’, the look of their life flashing before their eyes. It’s almost poetic. Breathtaking to watch the realization, the acceptance that they are going to die at the hands of me. That there’s no fighting it, that I will be the last thing they see.” He laughs softly. “It’s beautiful.” His eyes stare up into hers. “It’s not the same look you have on your face right now.” 

The look she had right now was far from the look someone who was about to die had. Someone who was filled with fear for their life. Afraid of him. No. She was scared. He could see it in her eyes. But it wasn’t fear. Fear made people do crazy things. Made people react differently. He was sure that with the fear that all of them had when they stared at him that he could make them do whatever he wanted. He could of asked them to drop to their knees and suck him off and they would out of fear. He never knew how much he would love fear. The idea of it. The concept. Seeing it. 

He pressed the blade of the knife closer to her skin. The cool of the blade burning into her skin that felt as if it were on fire. With what she wasn’t sure. It was freezing in this room. Her cuts and scrapes ached. Her inside churned and pained. She felt like she'd almost be sick again. But she also felt realization of everything that happened. As if she uncovered some big mystery and now that gnawing and fear that prickled the back of her neck each time she went outside, or heard a noise, or another person went missing. She felt an almost calming wash over her. She knew now. All of it. Xavier had done it all. The feeling of relief that she wouldn’t fall victim at the hands of the killer made her feel almost sick. She shouldn’t feel like this. She should go running out screaming and turning him in. He killed people she knew. Liked. Cared for. 

But he didn’t kill her. He wouldn’t. He would of done it by now. She knows. And as she looks up into his eyes, the smile that pulls into a smirk on his face. She knows he knows that they both know the other isn’t going to do anything. And she can’t help the tears that continue to spill because what is wrong with her? Was it truly possible to love someone so much that you don’t turn them in for killing? For doing an ungodly act? Could you love someone so much that you’re not scared even as they press a blade to your throat, hands coated in someone else’s blood, a crazed look in their eyes. 

It had to be possible. Because it’s the only thing she felt as she stared up at him. Love. 

“Are you scared?” He asks. 

She hesitates to, but she does, shake her head. “No.” 

He smiles. Kisses her and this time she kisses back. It’s long, passionate, a hint of potentially leading to something else. But, they don’t have time for that right now. No. He has to take care of a few things. 

He pulls away, moves the knife from her neck, holds either side of her head in his palms, “Now, tell me, what were you doing out tonight?” He needs to know. He didn’t plan for this. He was never someone to not have a plan or back up plan. Especially with this. And now he needed to include her in it. Something that brought a slight tinge or joy to him, that settled at the base of his cock. 

“I was looking for you.” He smiles as she explains, finding the sentiment sweet. “You didn’t show up to my cabin and I feared that something had happened to you. You always show up. So I knew something had to be up. So..,” she swallows. “I went looking for you and then I heard something.” 

He nods. “I heard someone. Something. I don’t usually leave such a mess, but you took me by surprise.” He grins. 

She continues, “I went to see what the noise was, tripped over her shoes and fell to the ground, into her,” she raises her hands indicating the blood on them. “Then I figured I should help whoever it was, thought maybe they had fallen or something and that’s when I saw they were dead and then ran-” 

“Into my arms.” He kisses her lips. “Right where you belong.” He rubs the pad of his thumb against her temple, “Tell me, love, did you leave anything behind? Any sign that you were there?” 

She thinks. Hard. The thought that she could have fingers pointing at her if something of hers was to be found beside a dead body makes her stomach churn. She shakes her head quickly but then remembers the sting from her palms and knees, she was sure her blood had probably gotten on something. And, then, she remembered her initial reaction to seeing the lifeless body before her, she had gotten sick.

“Oh my god,” she cries out. 

“What? Baby.” Xavier wipes her fallen tears and tries to coo her back to a calming manner so she can actually answer him. 

“I—I fell, cut myself, my blood has to be all over!” 

Xavier doesn’t seem to be as worried about it as she does. He just takes her hands in his, runs his finger over the small cuts on her palms and presses a kiss to them. “It’s alright.” 

She shakes her head. “No, it’s not!” She feels fear now. “I also got sick. I—threw up.” 

He frowns and takes a moment. Closes his eyes, takes a deep breath in, let’s it out, opens his eyes and smiles at her. “We can work around that.” 

“How?” She wipes the sleeve of her shirt across her eyes, getting rid of any stray tears as she tries to calm herself back down. Her brows knitted in confusion. He was so calm. More calm than he was minutes ago when he found out she had touched the dead body he had just slaughtered. 

“I figured you’d touched her, the thought alone pissed me off. Not at you. But at myself for leaving the bitch there.” He moves a stray hair from her face, smiles. “I planned for only me getting involved in this, not you. You were just going to be along my side when the police came and arrested Brooke. Took her away from the murders and me and you being the lone survivors, the final two. Getting all of the limelight.” 

And now she knew why he was doing this. Why he did this. Xavier loved attention. Loved being worshipped in other ways she couldn’t always provide for. So him being a survivor of something so tragic and gruesome would be just the type of attention and light he would love to have shine on him. He probably figured it would bring in more money for his classes. For his love for the higher end things. 

Now, she was also a part of the plan and would have the same attention pointed at her. Though, it seemed he always planned for her to be in the light beside him. A thought that almost makes her smile. As sick and wrong as it was. 

“You are going to go back out there. You’re going to scream, I know how loud you can get,” he smirks leans his forehead against hers. “Scream loud enough to wake someone up, everyone up, and when they come and find you they are going to see you’ve tripped, fallen, hurt yourself, gotten sick, discovered the body. When, or if, they ask you why you are there you simply tell them you were walking to the bathrooms and heard a noise.” His gaze never leaves hers as he speaks. Their fingers laced, “d  
Do you understand?” 

She nods. Taking in every word. Holding onto it. Clinging to it. She could do this. She could do this for not only herself but for him. For Xavier. He needed her. Needed her to not blow this. To do this for him. In a fucked up way as to protect him and it made her heart swell. He depended on her and she him. It was sickly sweet. 

He smiles and presses a kiss to her lips. “Everything is going to be fine.” 

“I..I know.” She reassures him. Smiles. The shaking, the aches, the fear suddenly something she doesn’t recall having her body feel. A fleeting pass of emotions that didn’t matter anymore. What mattered now was this. Xavier mattered. 

“Good girl.” He smirks. Kissing her again, more passionately. “You’re such a good girl, y/n.” 

And so she follows his instructions. Does exactly as she’s told, falls to the ground, screams until her lungs ache and nothing comes out, waking everyone in the camp, a group of counselors and campers running in her direction, stopping in their tracks, screaming horrifically, getting sick, and crying as their eyes spot the lifeless body. 

Brooke, as Xavier said she would stood in the back, eyes wide, tear filled but away from any eyes to see her. See her enough to say she was there and that she couldn’t be the killer. 

She almost finds herself smiling at how much thought he had put into this. He was more than just what he showed people, a breathtaking boy with beautiful eyes and amazing hair and slight asshole tendencies. He was so much more than that. And she was the only one who would know it. Get to see it. 

But she could smile later. Enjoy the sick feeling of the love her and Xavier shared between the two. Right now she had a role to play. And play it she did. Sobbing uncontrollably as two counselors helped her to her feet, helped carry her to the infirmary. Xavier coming running from his cabin, pushing past people as he runs to her side, making a show to look fearful, to look her over to ask what happened, what’s going on and to fake fear and distress when he’s told. 

Later the two would smile and laugh at the perfect show they put on. Xavier would tell her how good she was. How proud he was as he kissed down her chest, her abdomen, to the top of her shorts. Pulling them down and positioning himself between her legs to show her just how proud of her he was, how good she was. 

The two sealing their blood bond with a passionate night of rough kisses and praising touches.


End file.
